


Before The Dawn's Early Light

by WaywardSun1



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Fluff, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardSun1/pseuds/WaywardSun1
Summary: Ben and Caleb have to carefully navigate their new relationship in an era that does not take kindly to homosexuality. Ben's caution and fear conflicts with Caleb's impatient recklessness, threatening to keep them apart forever.Hope you enjoy, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take a moment to comment. Any and all feedback means the world to me!





	1. Chapter 1

Caleb was comfortable and warm and sleepy, and in no mood to go out on patrol. If any moments in his life had ever seemed impossible to overcome, they were now deemed inexpressibly easy compared to getting out of bed on a morning like this. Over two feet of snow on the ground, freezing rain, and wind blowing like the devil in and around the thin tent. Not that anything could be seen in the pitch black of that hour before dawn. But a sergeant had just come to bellow and wake him as duty required, and so he would have to go out and freeze his arse off for six hours, in the name of the cause. There was no getting out of it.  
  
Or maybe there was…but after several long minutes of pondering deserting the army or resigning his commission in order to get a few hours of shut-eye, he dismissed the idea and turned bodily around underneath the blankets to take a few precious moments to spoon his equally warm and comfortable companion.  
  
"Hey…it's almost sunrise," he finally whispered with regret into a barely exposed ear.  
  
"Wha….ugh…." came the muffled reply.  
  
"I've got to go. I'll miss you, but…we can do this again tonight, yeah?"  
  
"Shhhh, Caleb."  
  
Caleb kissed the ear, covered it up with the blanket, and slipped out of the cot as fast as he dared, yelping in surprise at the icy air. There was a suppressed, prolonged giggle from under the blanket.  
  
"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" Caleb muttered as he lit a candle, pretending to be mad but actually grinning from ear to ear as he proceeded to don every layer of clothing he could find. "Your time will come soon enough. Enjoy your beauty rest while you can."  
  
"Oh I will, don't worry. But not as much as I did with you."  
  
As Caleb pulled his boots on, he fondly regarded the unmoving lump under the blanket. He had never expected to be here like this, not in a million years, but, here he was. Here _they_ were. And it was perfect. There was nowhere else he'd ever want to be again. But as he pondered the sight, his joy turned into an alarming stab of dread for the hundredth time this week, ever since their first night together a few days ago, spent gently exploring each other’s bodies in the dark...in silence...in wonder...and in fear.  
  
He blew out his candle and tentatively sat back down on the bed, smoothing his hand over the light brown braid that was splayed out along the pillow, partially undone, the ribbon having gone missing somewhere in the linens during the night.  
  
"Hey," Caleb whispered, uncovering the frozen ear again and giving it another gentle kiss. "I gotta go. Will you promise to do me the honor of returning to my tent again tonight?"  
  
"I’d make that promise,” came the teasing reply. “But if you’re captured by the enemy, I’ll have to find another soldier to keep me warm.”  
  
"Well I won’t be, so you’d b-"  
  
Before he could say more, the lumpy form suddenly shifted, and Caleb felt those luscious warm lips on his own and a strong hand gripping the front of his coat. He pressed into it, senses on fire, willing time to stand still and allow him to stay in this moment forever.  
  
"I love you, Caleb" said the invisible mouth as it pulled back, breaking the spell heartbreakingly soon.  
  
Caleb sat up abruptly and stared into the black void with misty eyes, barely able to speak past the huge lump in his throat. He covered the hand that was still gripping his lapels, squeezed it for a few moments, and then pried it away gently as he stood up. The contact was broken. Perhaps never to be established again, if his patrol finally met the enemy for once. It was such a frightening thought that it utterly froze him in his tracks for a long moment.  

“Caleb?” came a tentative, scared question from the dark space below him. “I’m sorry if…I hope I didn’t...did I ruin…? It was too soon, wasn’t it?”  
  
"No. Shhhh.” Caleb’s heart pounded as he kneeled on the floor and somehow managed to find those warm lips on the first try. He put a finger over them to shush any further protests. “No. It wasn’t soon enough, actually. I love you, too. Always have.”

"Me too."

They kissed again, longer this time, until Caleb had to break away.

“Does this mean I'll see you tonight, Ben?” he queried somewhat breathlessly, running his fingers through what was left of the braid.

“No, you won't see me tonight."

Caleb paused, his heart skipping a beat. "....Oh? May I ask why not?"

Ben leaned over to steal another quick kiss. "Because it will be too dark in here to _see_  anything!"

Caleb stifled his laugh so that half the camp wouldn't hear him. Ben could be such a brat sometimes.

And he loved it.

\-------------------

 


	2. A Unfortunate Stroke of Luck

The General acknowledged silently to himself that he would rather be standing in the middle of a bonfire at the moment, rather than rooted here, waiting to confront his head of intelligence about some dastardly rumors that had recently found their way to his ears. This would not be a happy meeting, that much was certain, and there had been several unpleasant conversations with Tallmadge lately. Far too many. He was greatly annoyed at having to add yet another conflict to the list.

The tent flap opened silently and Ben poked his head in. Washington turned to Billy, nodding at him to leave them alone. Ben spotted the expression on his commander's face and braced himself accordingly as he made his way up to the edge of the desk. Normally he would announce himself, or query why he had been summoned, but not this time. Being on the receiving end of a look like that would render even the bravest of warriors speechless. He kept his mouth shut, bowed very slightly, and gripped his sword with white knuckles.  
  
"Major Tallmadge," began Washington, who faltered slightly as he searched for the appropriate words to address the situation. Perhaps he should have rehearsed this, he thought grimly. No use now, best to come out with it. With something. Anything…anything….  
  
"Sir?" prodded Ben, as politely as always. He was already breaking out into a cold sweat.  
  
Washington cleared his throat. "I've heard some interesting rumors lately. Most I can disregard, but one in particular concerns you, and is impossible for me to leave unaddressed. I don't want you to confirm or deny it. Just make it go away."  
  
Ben was certain Washington could see his heart pounding through his coat. He had kept many secrets from his commander, and had told more than one untruth in the past year. What exactly had been uncovered? he wondered. Any of them could mean the end of his career. One very recent secret, in particular. He prayed that wasn't it.  
  
"Of course, sir. Whatever it is, I can manage it."  
  
Washington stared at him.

"I certainly hope you can. You are to sleep in your own tent from now on, major. Every night. _By yourself_. Am I clear?"  
  
Ben nearly choked upon this directive, his mind racing wildly to come up with some kind of response that could mitigate this situation. Of all the secrets he could have found out about, this was the most damaging of all. Washington had every right to throw him out of the army right there and then. He even had the right to hang him for it, if he wanted…along with Caleb.   
  
"I…I…yes, sir." Ben was outwardly calm, but inwardly shattered to his very core, and wanted nothing more than to be executed on the spot right here in the tent, rather than go back outside, unknowingly facing whoever in the camp had spilled his secret. Their secret. Their _former_ secret, rather.   
  
Washington nodded. "I can tell by your reaction that the rumors are true. Of course I understand this is a difficult situation. And I acknowledge the need that men have at such times. I am not made of stone. But we cannot let this continue for another moment, as you most certainly agree. It stops today."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Washington now lost eye contact with Ben, who was staring at the floor in far more misery than he had apparently experienced in their previous confrontations. Feeling too much like a stern father, he added, "I must say, Ben, I'm baffled that you would take such a risk with your reputation. And hers."  
  
Ben's eyes now shot up to meet Washington's quizzically. What did he just say..?

 _Hers?_  
  
Did Washington really just say…  
  
… _hers?_  
  
He continued firmly, "You are not to meet - or sleep - with her again. Not while she is married to a member of Congress, that is. And one whom I desperately need to keep on our good side, no less. I'm extremely disappointed with your poor judgement, but this will be my last mention of it as long as you heed my wishes."

"I will. Thank you, sir," Ben croaked, flushing red from head to toe.

"You may dismiss."  
  
Ben bowed stiffly and left the tent in a daze, making a beeline for one of his corporals who was standing nearby on watch, busily warming himself over a small fire. He bolted straight up when Ben approached.  
  
"Corporal," said Ben sharply, "keep an eye out for Lieutenant Brewster and send him to my tent the moment he returns. I believe he's due back in an hour."  
  
"He's already here, sir, talking with Mrs. Strong at her cart."  
  
Ben turned around to follow his gaze and saw both of them standing there, looking back at him curiously. He suppressed his embarrassment and thanked the corporal, then silently beckoned Caleb to join him in his tent. Alone.  
  
Caleb took his time about it, and Ben's agitation quickly turned into anger while he waited, fingers tapping impatiently against his sword.  
  
"Tallboy!"  
  
Ben turned as he came into the tent, then blurted out with irritation, "Why are you not on patrol?"  
  
Caleb's grin fell off his face, but he walked up to Ben, affectionately taking a hold of both sides of his coat. "Had someone take over for me. What's wrong with you? Thought you'd be happy to see me."  
  
Ben pried Caleb's hands off his coat - not as gently as he could have - and stepped back, glaring holes through his friend.

"Alright," Caleb said contritely. "I'm sorry, should have asked. Won't happen again."  
  
"Good. But I'm not upset about that, Caleb," Ben admitted. "Washington just confronted me. He knows I've been…well, not sleeping in my own tent lately. Someone's been talking."  
  
Caleb instantly went pale.  
  
Ben shook his head, trying to ward off his rising panic. "No, it's not that. He thinks I'm having an affair with Anna."

"Christ. Did you deny it?"

"No, because I thought...Caleb, this means…this means we can't…not even if he hadn't ordered me, it doesn't matter, it's about Anna, but you can't, I can't, we can't…"

"Slow down, Ben," said Caleb calmly, getting the gist of all the reasons for the panic, but finding no need to panic himself. In fact, he was quite relieved that Anna was the suspect.  
  
Ben continued rapidly, "He reprimanded me once I didn't offer any defense. It's not like I could set the record straight by telling him he was wrong about who I've been sleeping with."  
  
Caleb grinned. "No, but I'd give my left arm to see his expression if you did."  
  
Ben nodded, gaining control of himself again as he saw a spark of grim humor in the situation.  
  
"No need to give it to him. He'd probably rip it off you and beat me with it."  
  
"Ha. So, I'll go tell Anna you can't speak with her anymore?"  
  
Ben sighed. "Yes. And you'll have to tell her why. She's going to wonder why I didn't deny it. What should we say?"

"Don't worry, I'll think of something."

"Thank you, Caleb."  
  
Ben turned away, despondent and lost in thought. It almost seemed he forgot Caleb was there, until he spoke up again.  
  
"So…where does that leave us, then?" Caleb asked, very quietly. Almost a whisper.  
  
Ben turned around, all business again. "Well, he ordered me to sleep in my own tent from now on. Alone. I'm sorry, Caleb. I didn't know what to do."  
  
"Sounds like you handled it fine. But he's going to sneak in here at all hours and check your bed, you suppose?"  
  
"Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him these days. But it doesn't matter since I can't disobey him."  
  
There was a long silence, and then Caleb backed up towards the tent flap and said bitterly, "Right. Well, I'd better go. See you around."  
  
Ben stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be angry, Caleb. This isn't my doing."  
  
"Yes it is," he replied coolly. "I told you that pretending you and Anna were a couple was a bad idea. Neither of you would listen to me. Now look where it's gotten us."  
  
"No, we're _lucky._ It could have been so much worse, you know that."  
  
Caleb looked aghast. "What's worse than not being able to…to…"  
  
Ben didn't have an answer.  
  
Neither did Caleb. And without another word, he was gone.  
  
Ben slept alone that night, peaceful in knowing their secret was safe.  
  
Caleb didn't sleep at all.  
  
____________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To understand Washington's reaction to the rumors about Ben, and his later conversation with Selah (chapter 4), it's crucial to know that in season 4 Ben and Anna are pretending to have a relationship (in order to give her an excuse to be in his tent to talk about intelligence).


	3. Unwitting Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben accidentally gets what he wants.

"Anna wants to speak to you, says it's urgent," Caleb told Ben quietly as they crossed paths on the way to separate destinations - Ben to unsaddle his horse, and Caleb to get one of his pistols repaired by the blacksmith. It had been five days since Washington's directive, and things were simply going to shit in all directions with Ben and Caleb's relationship…if there was anything left of it, that is.

Ben looked at him askance as he kept walking. "No. You told her what happened, I thought?"  
  
"Aye. But Washington will be out of camp soon, won't he?"  
  
Ben stopped in his tracks, his expression now carefully controlled. He would never disobey his orders on this particular matter, whether or not Washington would ever know about it.

"Whatever she has to say to me needs to go through you. We've talked about this already."  
  
"She wants to leave camp. Tomorrow morning. For good."  
  
"To go where?"  
  
Caleb replied, "Anywhere. She wants to leave the Ring altogether. You need to talk to her."  
  
Ben swore under his breath. "For the last time, no. She needs to finish her work with Mary. This is not negotiable. We're so close to finding out who Mrs. Bates is working with."  
  
"Then get Washington's permission." He reached out and took the reins of Ben's horse. "Go catch him now, before he leaves."  
  
"Alright. I suppose I'd better. Will you take my horse? Thank you." Ben patted his horse on the neck, straightened up, and grimly moved towards the big stone house on his next mission. He had to wait almost 40 minutes to see the commander in chief, but it gave him the time he needed to practice and phrase his request carefully.  
  
Once he was at the foot of the desk, he forgot everything he was about to say and floundered around with the words. "Sir. Mrs. Strong is requesting to speak with me to discuss the Ring. I'm afraid she feels strongly towards departing camp, now that we…are no longer able to discuss matters relating to our work with Mrs. Bates."  
  
Washington frowned. "But surely Lieutenant Brewster can relay your messages? Is that not what you've been doing?"  
  
Ben braced himself. "It's not working, sir. We need to talk face to face. I'm here to request your permission for us to start meeting again. To discussion intelligence matters only."  
  
"Hmmmm."  
  
"That's all we will do, sir, on my word," Ben added belatedly, blushing from the neck up. He was stiff as a board and not a little afraid of what was going to come next.  
  
Washington smiled a little. "Relax, major. You look like you’ve seen a ghost."  
  
Ben did not move, but his eyes darted back and forth as he tried to grasp Washington's meaning. "I…this is very awkward for me, sir. I apologize."  
  
"I assure you, the feeling is mutual. You may meet with her. But before you do, I want you to write a letter to Selah Strong explaining to him what's been going on."  
  
Ben almost choked at that. Washington couldn't possibly mean..?  
  
"Not that you've been having an affair with his wife," he added hastily. "But that Mrs. Strong is working for us, and as a result, inevitable rumors have surfaced which you want to assure him in advance are not true, before he hears them himself. Especially before he visits here again."  
  
"Yes, sir." His tone was so stern that Ben felt like bursting into tears suddenly. He desperately wanted to reassure him the rumors were false, but how could he do that without exposing the more dangerous truth?

"After the letter is sent, you may meet with Mrs. Strong again. But not in your tent. You can meet here. Those are my conditions."

“With respect, it has to be in my tent, sir. Bates will find out if Anna comes here, and the game will be be up. My only interest lies in preserving her cover.”

”See that it stays that way. You may meet in your tent again, with the presence of Lieutenant Brewster.”

Ben blushed again, this time at the thought of what Bates would think about Anna being in a tent with _two_ men. He was also greatly annoyed that Washington apparently didn’t trust him alone with Anna, but he only had himself to blame for that.

“Sir, that’s not going to do much to improve her reputation. Or mine.”

Washington stared him down so savagely that Ben wished a hole in the floor would open up and swallow him up.

“You may meet alone. Is there something else bothering you? You seem to be holding back.”

His tone was clearly was a mix between a warning to watch his tone and sincere concern. Ben swallowed hard and forced himself to stay perfectly respectful.

"Yes, sir. May I ask…what if I wish to spend time with someone besides Anna?” He cleared his throat and then added bluntly, “In other words, am I now required to ask for your express permission to _not_ sleep alone?"  
  
Ben never would have believed he could make Washington blush or make him speechless, but…there it was. The man didn't know what to say for several long moments.

”You have someone else already?” he asked incredulously. 

Ben kept a perfectly straight face despite being asked such a shockingly intimate question. Even Washington seemed surprised at himself for asking it, and looked about to retract it. Ben was secretly amused to find that he was enjoying Washington’s discomfort.

“Yes, sir. At least, I hope so.”

Washington cleared his throat. "I apologize if I…that question was quite inappropriate. The prohibition applies only to Mrs. Strong. But, as I said before, you are to sleep in your own tent. That condition I will not remove.”  
  
"Thank you, sir," Ben said with an absolutely straight face. But inside, he was smiling. He would have Caleb back, then. With Washington's permission, too, even though he didn't know it.  
  
And in his own bed.  
  
Even better.

 


	4. Involuntary Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a shitty day for Ben, basically.

  * * * *




"Not tonight. Not for a while," Ben said firmly, gently shoving Caleb back a step, hating himself for being so outwardly cold. It wasn't how he actually felt, at all. He was burning with passion inside, but it was outweighed by the fact that he was also skittish as a spooked horse, especially because Washington hadn't left camp for a few days as planned. Four days later, he was still here.   
  
Caleb grinned as he took a hold of Ben's sword belt and slid his hand downwards. "Didn't say anything about spending the night, did I, Tallboy?"  
  
"No, but-"  
  
"So let's go to my tent for a little while."   
  
Ben pried the hand off his breeches and stepped back, slightly horrified. "Caleb. Please, just…be patient."  
  
"I am, Tallboy. Been a long time since you laughed at me for getting dressed in the dark-"  
  
Ben nearly leaped out of his skin when Hamilton suddenly poked his head in the tent.  
  
"Come in, sir," Ben said as normally as possible, wondering if his heart would ever start beating again.  
  
"Old man wants to see us."  
  
Ben nodded. It was highly unusual to be summoned by anyone other than Washington's guards, which meant Hamilton wanted to intercept him first and talk on the way to the house. They both looked at Caleb, who excused himself in usual cheeky way.  
  
"Something wrong?" asked Ben, with his heart lodged firmly in his throat.  
  
"Yes, actually. Selah Strong is here, and quite foaming at the mouth. The General seems to think you have something to do with it."  
  
Shit. The letter had only gone out three days ago, there was no way Selah could have possibly received the explanation of why rumors were floating around that Ben was snogging his wife.  
  
He tried to keep his tone normal. "But he wants to see both of us? You and me?"  
  
Hamilton cocked his head. "That's what he said. Do you know why Mr. Strong is so angry with you?"  
  
"I do, but I'm not sure I'm at liberty to explain it. I have a feeling you're about to hear all about it, though."  
  
"Can't wait. Put your coat on, then, and let's go."  
  
Ben turned around and picked up the heavy blue and silver coat, wondering if this would be the last time he would ever be able to wear it as an officer in the Continental Army. Apparently Hamilton was thinking the same thing.  
  
"You look as though you're on your way to your execution," he joked airily.  
  
Ben glanced sidelong at him, irritated at the jibe. "That's one possible outcome," he retorted as he slipped his arms into his jacket.  
  
Hamilton grimaced. "Sorry. I was only trying to lighten the mood."  
  
"Selah thinks I'm having an affair with his wife," Ben blurted suddenly. "So I’m not sure anything could lighten my mood at the moment." He slid the sword into the scabbard with more force than necessary, and then added, "Let's go." Suddenly remembering he was speaking to his superior officer, he threw in an apologetic and belated "sir" before stopping to open the tent flap for him.  
  
They began to walk to the house, and Hamilton whispered, "Dare I ask if it's true?"  
  
Ben willed himself to utilize the respectfully friendly tone he had always employed with Hamilton. His anxiety wasn't the man's fault, and there was no point whatsoever in making an enemy of him by being rude. Especially because he liked him, despite his tendency to make ill-timed jokes at Ben's expense.  
  
“It’s far more complicated than I have time to explain right now," he replied carefully. There was no other answer he could give without also admitting he lied to Washington.  
  
Hamilton looked sideways at him with narrowed eyes. "Ah. And how on earth did Selah get a whiff of it?"  
  
"Camp gossip, of course. Somehow it got to Philadelphia. At least…I think that's what we're here about." The thought that it could be another subject entirely just struck Ben, and he cringed at the thought of possibly having told Hamilton far more than he needed to hear - on the wrong issue entirely, no less.  
  
They halted in front of the house to let a string of visitors leave. Selah's carriage was nearby, horses still attached and footmen waiting. So at least this wouldn't be a very long meeting, which brought Ben a very small measure of relief.  
  
He waited a little longer to go in than was proper, and it took Hamilton nudging his arm to get him to climb the steps and go inside. Washington was sitting at his desk, and Selah standing nearby, looking as though someone had…well, had an affair with his wife.  
  
"Selah," Ben said steadily, trying to appear as normal as possible. "How good to see you again."  
  
Selah nodded curtly, but said nothing. That was not a good sign, and Ben immediately knew he was indeed here about Anna. But why was Hamilton here as well?  
  
Washington stood up. "Gentlemen…Hamilton, close the door. Thank you. Gentlemen, we have a problem here. Word of Mrs. Strong's intelligence work has reached ears in Philadelphia, and her true name has apparently fallen into the hands of the enemy. Mr. Strong has come here, rightly so, to demand an explanation, and also obtain a plan to protect his wife from reprisals."  
  
Ben shifted his glance to Selah, who was staring at him so angrily that Ben was reminded of all the times he had pranked him when they were children. Selah hated being pranked, as did Abe, which naturally made them frequent targets of Caleb and Ben's machinations.  
  
"Well, major?" Selah demanded.  
  
"I don't know what to say," Ben admitted after a few long moments. "I'm sorry. I will answer you more fully, but I need time to think and do some research. How long are you in camp?"  
  
"Not long enough to get an explanation of this debacle. I'll await your letter. But perhaps we can resolve another matter in the meantime."  
  
Ben's hair stood on end. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as all eyes shifted to him, silently questioning and judging.  
  
"What matter is that?" he queried calmly, trying to remember to breathe normally.  
  
Washington looked back and forth between them. "One that is perhaps better served with a private conversation, may I assume?"  
  
"If you don't mind, General," responded Selah, keeping his eyes fixed on Ben. "Is there a room in the house we may borrow for this discussion?"  
  
"Upstairs, the bedroom at the end of the hall on the left. I assure you, it is completely private. Take all the time you need."  
  
Selah nodded and gestured at Ben to go up the stairs first. He went immediately, feeling like an errant child about to get beating…even though his conscience was clear. Or was it?  
  
They entered the bedroom in silence. Selah shut the door, keeping his back turned to Ben for a few long moments before diving into the issue at hand.  
  
"There was more than just word of her spying that reached me," Selah began as he walked around the room slowly, throwing a loaded glance at his anxious friend.  
  
"I'm not having an affair with your wife, if that's what you’re planning to ask me.”

Selah now turned and stared at him, shocked by the tersely challenging tone in which this statement was issued.

Ben continued without waiting for a response. “Three days ago I sent you a letter regarding the rumors and explained the reason behind them. If you don’t believe me you can ask Anna yourself, if you'd like. She hasn't left camp yet."

Selah looked confused. "What you do mean, _yet_? She's planning to leave?"  
  
"Aye. To return to you in Philadelphia...to reconcile. Hopefully."

"I see. Back to the issue at hand. Washington said you confirmed to him that you were…having inappropriate relations. He was even forced to order you not to see her. So which one of us are you lying to?"  
  
Ben felt an enormous flash of anger and embarrassment course through his entire body. How dare Washington?  
  
_How dare he_?

"Well?" Selah demanded, his voice tightening dangerously.  
  
Ben fought to think as he struggled to push aside the sudden, overwhelming desire to throttle his beloved general.

"It’s not what it seems. Anna and I had been spending a lot of time together to discuss intelligence, and he felt it improper - which was the whole point.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We needed the rumor as cover for her presence in my tent,” Ben explained impatiently. “But he thought the risk of those rumors getting back to you was too great. Well that's exactly what happened, didn't it? And I assure you that's all it is: rumors. You know me better than that, Selah. Then he-"  
  
"I thought I did. But Washington said-"  
  
Ben cut him off and raised his voice. "Allow me to finish, if you please? He then started lecturing me about not sleeping in my own tent, and-"  
  
"You were sleeping in her tent?" Selah fumed.

"No, _wait_ …just let me explain. I thought when he confronted me that he was telling me to stop seeing the _real_ person I'm having a relationship with. The person in whose tent I was sleeping in. Which, I assure you, was definitely not Anna's. But he didn’t say any names. It wasn't until the end of the conversation I realized he was referring to Anna, and by then it was too late. I swear to you, Selah, I inadvertently admitted to an affair with your wife because I thought he was talking about someone else. In hindsight I should have realized what he was implying, but…well, it's too late now."  
  
It took Selah a few moments to absorb this unexpected but highly interesting argument.

"That's absurd! It's been a week now, and you haven’t clarified the situation? That makes no sense. I repeat, which one of us are you lying to?"

Ben felt like crying from frustration, anger, and embarrassment. He lowered his voice.

"Washington. Though not lying outright. I’m just...not correcting his assumption.”

Selah was astonished. “Why not?“

“Because the truth is worse than letting him think it was Anna. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m going to resign. Right now."

Selah's earlier rage had been tamped down considerably by this explanation, if not extinguished altogether, and he quickly moved to block Ben’s exit. His childhood friend - and on very rare occasions, also his foe - stopped and looked up at him angrily, ready to explode on the spot.

"Calm down, Ben," he said quietly. "And don't start a fight with Washington over this. He had no choice but to tell me."  
  
“Yes, he did!” Ben nearly shouted. “This is horse shit, Selah! ...Don’t do that. I’m not a child anymore.”

This last part was blurted out when Selah had put his hands on Ben's shoulders, in the brotherly, calming way he used to before the war. Ben violently shrugged them off, crossed to the other side of the room, and stared out the window with a ferocity of expression that surprised and unsettled Selah.  
  
"Ben," he said eventually, very quietly. "I believe you. Thank you. And I think I understand what you're trying to tell me - or rather, trying _not_ to tell me. If my assumption is correct, you did the right thing in order to protect yourself. And him."  
  
Ben spun around to look at him. "What do you mean? _Him_ , who?"  
  
Selah paused for a moment, then said, "I have to leave for Philadelphia now. And considering this is a war, and we might not see each other again, I wish to part from what might be our last conversation with friendship and understanding. And trust. Do you agree?"  
  
"Yes." Ben swallowed hard, and said with all the fortitude he could muster, "I trust you with my life, as I always have.”

“Then tell me...who are you really seeing?”

“As I have just explained, it’s _not_ Anna.”  
  
Selah smiled a little, knowing from Ben’s current posture and expression that he would not say another word on the subject, no matter what kind of pressure he would be put under to do so.

"No need to tell me anyway, I've already figured it out. And I trust you with my wife, as I should have all along. I'll tell Washington as much before l take my leave. Tell Caleb I said hello when you next see him. And be careful...both of you."  
  
Ben kept his expression perfectly neutral in order not to betray his fear and irritation at Selah’s guessing the truth...Ben was self-aware enough to know all his current emotions would soon be replaced by relief and gratitude.

"I will give him your regards. He'll be sorry he missed you. Safe travels, Selah."

"Don't forget you still owe me an explanation of how Anna's name got out, and what you are going to do to protect her. I'll expect a letter from you within ten days."  
  
"You'll have it. I'm sorry that you had to travel all the way up here for such a short meeting."  
  
"It was no trouble. I'm glad I got to speak with you in person. Promise me you won’t resign over this?”

Ben shifted reluctantly, finally feeling blood rushing to his brain again as Selah smiled at him sadly.

“I...I won’t promise, but I’ll reconsider it.”

“Don’t do it. He needs you. As do I.” 

Ben still did not want to commit, so Selah let it go. They shook hands solemnly.

Then Selah left the room, and Ben was alone.   
  
But he wasn't done with this yet.  
  
Washington. He had to confront him.

First, he went into the bedroom next door and waited to make sure Selah was actually leaving. Soon enough, the carriage pulled away. Ben watched it disappear, then counted to one hundred, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs. Washington was waiting for him, alone. He went up to the end of the desk and bowed very slightly.  
  
"Sir, may I speak?" asked Ben shortly, although not quite sure how to start the conversation without devolving into a bitter argument almost immediately...even though a large part of him wanted exactly that.  
  
Washington did not wait for any preamble. “I can see how angry you are, and with good reason. His line of questioning caught me off-guard, and I inadvertently revealed something I did not mean to. I assure you, it was completely unintentional."  
  
Ben was startled by the familiarity of that excuse. A line of questioning…caught off guard…inadvertently revealed…it was all exactly what happened to him when he accidentally confessed to the non-existent affair. They had both been caught in the same kind of trap.  
  
"I owe you an apology," Washington continued, "which I hope you will accept in all the sincerity it is intended. Apparently there was a limited amount of damage, considering Mr. Strong has apparently already forgiven you. In fact, he insisted I continue to let you meet with his wife. That was rather extraordinary."  
  
Ben nodded, again having no idea what to say. His fury was still under control, but barely. "Selah and I grew up together, sir. We're practically brothers. Otherwise it would have ended very differently, I'm afraid."  
  
"You are lucky," Washington mused.  
  
Ben took a moment to appreciate the absurdity of the remark, until he remembered he was indeed lucky. Lucky not to get caught by Hamilton, lucky that Selah understood his predicament, and lucky that Washington had been put in the position of apologizing to him.  
  
"I’m sure I am, sir. Is that all?"  
  
"No. First, mind your tone. Secondly, Mrs. Strong is not to return to Philadelphia until we have resolved the issue with Mrs. Bates. Do I need to provide a written order, or will she accept your explanation of the matter?"  
  
Ben desperately wanted to ask for a written order, but that would have made him appear uncertain of his own authority.  
  
"No, sir. I’d better tell her immediately. May I dismiss, sir?"

”You may.”

Ben stalked back to his tent and found Caleb waiting inside, sitting on his bed. His rage piqued to new heights, and he was all but ready to fight anyone who was willing.   
  
"For god's sake, Caleb! Do you have any idea what I've just been through?"  
  
Caleb grinned and patted the bed. "Nope, Tallboy. Why don't you come and tell me all about it?"  
  
"Caleb, please go. And don't come into my tent again without my permission, please."  
  
"What the hell's the matter with you?" Caleb demanded.  
  
Ben threw down his notebook onto the table and pointed towards the tent flap.

"I won't tell you again. We have to wait, and be patient. You're putting us both in danger."  
  
Caleb glared at him as he stood up. "So are you."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I think you know what it means."  
  
Ben took three strides forward and embraced Caleb for a split second, and then let him go again before he even realized what he was doing.  
  
"Don't say that. Do you hear me? We are…we will be again soon, that is. Do you understand?" He lowered his voice. "Washington leaves camp in three days. Until then, I'm not going to risk being caught. You saw how Hamilton nearly-"  
  
"Yes, I was there, remember?"  
  
There was silence between them for several long moments.  
  
"Three days, Caleb. That's all."  
  
"Aye," Caleb said. "And three days is all I'm gonna give ya, Tallboy."  
  
Caleb turned to leave, taking his time, willing Ben to stop him.

But Ben just let him go.

 


	5. The Frozen-Fingered Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben & Caleb fluff, as well as some brief dickhead!Hamilton.

Ben was all but counting down the seconds until Washington left camp. Two hours until he could see Caleb again. Not just see him, but….well, he blushed at his own dirty thoughts and forced himself to think of other things as he strutted towards the big stone house to say farewell to his commander and provide an update on Mrs. Bates.

Washington was busy with Hamilton, so Ben was asked to step out in the anteroom for almost an hour, where he drummed his fingers impatiently on his sword and paced until he got dizzy. By the time the door finally opened, he was sorely tempted to blurt something extremely rude in return for being kept waiting for so long. Not that he would ever do that, but if he had decided to, the look on Hamilton's face would have stopped him cold first. Alex was very good at communicating with just his eyebrows, and right now they were clearly warning Ben to halt his impending temper tantrum.

Washington looked up very briefly, barely making eye contact. "Something's come up, and I wish for you to travel with me to Philadelphia. Hamilton will deal with the Bates matter. Be ready to go in one hour."

Ben's mouth flopped open and closed like a fish. Washington went back to his writing, apparently having no intention of adding anything else to the subject. Neither did he have any idea of the veritable sword he had just plunged straight through Ben’s heart. How was he going to tell Caleb to wait any longer? Forget that, how could he possibly wait any longer, himself?

Hamilton cleared his throat and addressed Ben. “You should give me your update on Bates now, then.”

"In the other room." Washington said tersely, waving them away with his quill.

"He's in a mood," observed Hamilton dryly once the two young men had made their exit. "What's the update?"

Just what I needed, thought Ben. Traveling with Washington when he's in a mood. He gave his update, which Hamilton listened to silently without question or comment. Afterwards, Ben asked, "Why am I going to Philadelphia?"

"That will be all, major," prompted Hamilton stiffly as he turned to leave. A dismissal on top of an ignored question. Ben didn’t like being treated so offhandedly by Hamilton or anyone else, and it weakened his normal sense of careful discretion.

"Apparently _the mood_ is contagious, eh?" He said it in a joking tone, but it was a veiled criticism.

Hamilton stopped in his tracks and turned around, one eyebrow raised in dismay. "It's not my place to explain why you're going. I will say that Selah Strong has nothing to do with it."

"I didn't think he-"

"You're dismissed, major."

Ben sighed and headed straight for Caleb's tent to break the bad news. He didn't find him there, and realized with combined sadness and relief that he must be on patrol. With shaking hands he went to Caleb's little writing desk and left him a note:

_Ten more days. -JB_

______________

When Ben returned _twelve_ incredibly long and frustrating days later, soaked through from rain and ice, and burdened with a thousand new worries accumulated during the trip, he found a note on his own writing desk:

_You're such an arsehole. -Caleb Brewster_

Ben grinned, then changed his sopping clothing as quickly as he could manage and raced over to Caleb's tent. A single dying candle was enough to see that he was asleep, a big unruly lump under several brown blankets. Ben shivered, the dry clothes not offering much in the way of warmth, and blew out the flame. Then he started slowly climbing into the cot alongside Caleb.

"What the-"

"Hello, friend," Ben murmured. "Shhhh."

"Jesus Christ, you're an icicle! You gotta warn a man before you go and-"

"Here’s your warning," Ben responded, pressing a frozen hand on his neck. Caleb yelped, and Ben laughed as quietly as he could manage as Caleb writhed around.

"For god's sake, if you grab me with your snowman hands again I swear I'm going to...to..."

"Going to do what, exactly?" Ben now put both his hands on Caleb's back, feeling delirious with mischief and glee and want. Caleb nearly shouted out loud, then he started grumbling.

"Ben, swear to god I'm going to pull a Simcoe on you, you evil shite!”

"Let me in, Brewster," Ben commanded with the authoritative tones he used on his dragoons. Caleb rolled around and offered out the blankets, gasping as the cold figure slid in next to his warm body and settled down gently.

"Bloody hell. This is outright cruelty."

Ben grinned in the dark. "I know."

"At least you got clothes on," Caleb responded, and Ben was happy to hear the unmistakable tone of amusement in his voice. "I'd hate to think how cold you are underneath all that."

"Do you want to find out?"

"No!"

They both laughed, and then Caleb shifted all the way around to face him so that they could feel each other's breath. Ben scooted up a little and rested his chin on the top of Caleb's head, so that his wet hair wouldn't be dripping onto their faces. Then he wrapped his arm around Caleb and held on tight…from desire, but also from the fact that he was in dire danger of rolling out of the little cot and onto the ground at any moment.

Ben whispered, "What time are you due on patrol tonight?"

"I'm not. Just got back a little while ago."

"Good. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

”It’s alright. You’re here now.”

”Aye. I’m here.”

Everything else they both wanted to say to each other drifted away unspoken into the darkness and cold. The apologies. The complaints. The arguments. Nothing mattered now that relief prevailed...then silence, as if by prior agreement. Nor did either of them move a muscle. Ben imagined they must look like a painting, if anyone could see them. Which thankfully, they could not. 

After about half an hour of this delightful contentment, Ben's breathing had become deep and slow.

Caleb squirmed to free one of his arms so that he could stroke the stubbled cheek of his sleepy friend.

"Hey Ben," he whispered. "You can't stay here. Not that I don’t want you to.“

Ben mumbled, "I know. Just a little while longer. I'm still cold."

"So am I, thanks to you."

“Sorry.” Ben kissed him gently on the forehead, genuinely regretful that his earlier playfulness had been so mean-spirited. 

They laid together for another few minutes, and then Ben finally started to stir. "You're right. I don’t want to leave, but…”

Caleb responded quietly. "I know. Go."

They kissed passionately, but briefly, and then Ben untangled himself from the blankets and stood up stiffly, deeply regretting the loss of the contact he had waited so long to regain. He couldn’t see Caleb at all, but he suspected he was looking at him with sadness and regret. The same thing was on his own face.

Against his better judgment Ben asked, with some hesitation, "Will you join me in my tent? Just to sleep. I can't…I can't do anything else right now, and I don't want you to feel like I’m a bore, but I just want to sleep tonight. With you, I mean." He didn't know what to say, and was glad Caleb couldn't see the flush that was rapidly creeping up his cheeks. 

Caleb almost said no, because he wanted Ben to get some real rest, but then he realized the young major was already halfway asleep and close to falling down on his face. Nothing - and no one - could keep him awake at this point. Caleb sat up in bed and reached for his coat.

"Of course. Nowhere else I'd rather be, Tallboy."

"Me either. I love you, Caleb."

"Me too, you frozen-fingered bastard."

\--------------

 


	6. Heartbreak and Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Tallmadge CANNOT.

Ben had previously taken pride in the fact that he could be honest with himself, for better or for worse. He always knew when he was in over his head, for example, or when certain subjects simply fell outside of his ability to comprehend. Such as the moods of General Washington, or trying to understand the impertinent desires of Anna Strong, or the dangerous whims of Abe Woodhull. Those were manageable challenges. He was confident of his strong instincts that had so far guided him on when to give in, when to push back, when to take control.  
  
Which was why he was so frustrated to find himself at a loss with the situation that he and Caleb found themselves in. Every hour his feelings changed from one extreme to the next, where Caleb's stayed the same. Every hour his fears increased, where Caleb's decreased. Every hour he debated whether to break it off, where Caleb only got closer and closer. Stronger. More suffocating. And yet, also more satisfying. 

You wouldn’t know by looking at him that Ben Tallmadge was increasingly tormented by his own thoughts and desires that now consumed him nearly every moment of every day. His face stayed set in a careful mask of concentration and calm. And that was a problem in itself, sometimes.  
  
He had been dining with General Washington, General Wayne, and Alexander Hamilton when all the distractions of his secret life first reared their ugly head. The thoughts that would not go away were now pushing him into new territory. Having no clue what he was eating or drinking, he nodded along to the conversation and inserted hmmms and aahhhhs where it seemed appropriate. In truth though, he could not have repeated a single sentence - hell, even a few words of the conversation - if he had been paid to do so.  
  
Then someone asked him a question. He only knew this because there was sudden, deathly silence at the table. As if someone was waiting for an answer. Ben looked around to see who the subject of this question was, and found three pairs of eyes on him. He wiped his mouth carefully and placed his napkin on the table. He did not know who to look at first, so he focused on Hamilton, who seemed least likely to care that he hadn't heard the question.  
  
"My apologies, I…think someone just addressed me, but I did not hear it."  
  
There seemed to be nothing amiss in anyone's expressions, so perhaps there was hope of getting out of this unscathed. Washington casually took another bite of his stew, and Wayne took a large gulp of his wine, so Hamilton took the cue and spoke up, very politely and with a curious expression.  
  
"General Wayne asked if you could share your professional opinion on the intelligence that he has gained from General Scott, since you know more about that situation than any of us."  
  
Ben fought down his rising anxiety and willed himself not to grab his own glass of wine and take a huge swig. Instead, he took a quick, delicate sip of water as he turned his attention to the scowling Wayne.  
  
"I don't think I've had the opportunity to hear about it yet, sir. Would you kindly educate me on what you have learned?"  
  
Wayne didn't say anything for an uncomfortably long time so, Ben shifted his glance to Hamilton, who was shaking his head very slightly with an expression of "now you've done it" that reminded Ben of his older brothers admonishing him for misbehaving in church.  
  
Washington cleared his throat, but Ben was too afraid to look at him. He knew he was in deep trouble.  
  
"Are you not feeling well, major?"  
  
"I'm well, sir, thank you," replied Ben steadily, feeling anything but well.  
  
Washington set down his spoon with an unnecessarily firm thunk. "I am just concerned, you see, because General Wayne has just finished explaining at length to the table what he has learned from General Scott. Did you not hear any of it?"  
  
"My apologies, sir, I….should have just admitted that I am not well, rather than…than…"  
  
"Wasting our time, yes," interjected Washington. "You should leave the table and go get some rest."  
  
Ben stood up immediately, an enormous flush taking over his entire face. He hadn't been sent away from a dinner table mid-meal since he was an errant young child. "Thank you, sir. Goodnight, gentlemen."  
  
"Report back here in one hour, if you are able, to give me an update on how you are feeling."  
  
Washington's tone was of gentle concern, but he was staring at him like a man ready to murder someone on the spot. And that someone was Ben, who bowed slightly and departed as rapidly as he could while still maintaining the shreds of whatever was left of his dignity.  
  
He went straight to Caleb's tent, all alarms sounding in his brain at the highest possible frequency and volume. He was certain he had just killed his career for good…and if not that extreme, his reputation with the three officers at that table was most certainly finished.  
  
Caleb was not there, and Ben knew he wasn't on patrol. He waited thirty extremely long minutes in his tent, then barged outside again, and was in a full-fledged panic by the time he spotted Caleb in the woods nearby, coming back from some duty or another.  
  
"Caleb!" he barked, sounding like a shrieking washerwoman to his own ears.  
  
"What's wrong, Tallboy?" asked Caleb, trotting over in a state of perfect concern and urgency. As he got closer he hissed, "What's happened? You alright?"  
  
"No! I'm…everything is…we're done. Well, I'm done, anyway."  
  
"What?"  
  
Ben took several deep breaths. "I can't do this anymore, Caleb. I can't, I'm…it's unraveling me. I just can't. I want to, but…no, I don't."  
  
"Calm down, Ben, lower your voice," Caleb warned, looking around them carefully to discern if there were any eavesdroppers in the dark. "You've gotten spooked again. What's happened?"  
  
"Not here. My tent. Come on."  
  
They went to Ben's tent, where Caleb heard the panicked but not entirely complete explanation of what had just occurred in the big stone house.  
  
"What does this have to do with me?" he asked after a few moments of waiting for more of the story, but in vain. "I don't understand what's gotten you so riled up."  
  
Ben sat on his bed, then leaped back up again as if it was on fire.  
  
"I wasn't listening to them because I was too busy listening to my own thoughts. Of you, of me, of us…of all of it. You're going to be the end of me, one way or another."  
  
"Gee, thanks," Caleb snorted with a frown. "I love you, too."  
  
Ben stopped abruptly, realizing what he had just said. "No, I-"  
  
"I get it."  
  
"No, Caleb. I'm not blaming you. I'm blaming me. This is my fault. I should have never tried to be something I'm not."  
  
Caleb frowned and sat on the bed. "Something you're not? What does that mean? And don't tell me you don't love me, because you do. And you know it."  
  
Ben turned around to face him, his expression tortured. "I know. And I do. But I can't...I just can’t do this anymore. I’m so sorry, Caleb.”  
  
They stared at each other for a while, breathing hard, in totally different frames of mind while still desiring each other more than ever before.

"I need to go," Ben finally said, in defeat. He turned to leave, but Caleb called him back.  
  
"Ben!"  
  
"What?"

Caleb stood up and walked over to him calmly. "This is your tent, remember? So I’m the one who needs to leave. You really are in a state, Tallboy. You gonna be okay?"  
  
Ben shrugged. "I don't know. I have to see Washington again in twenty minutes. Presumably to explain myself, which…most likely will not end well."  
  
"What are you going to tell him?"  
  
"Like I said, I'm not feeling well. Which I'm not. I'm not myself, at all. Not since…you know."  
  
Now it was Caleb's turn to shrug. "Yeah, I know. And you think us being apart is going to be any easier than us being together?"  
  
"Yes! Because I won't be constantly afraid of being found out. I can't sleep, Caleb. I can't think. I can't do anything as long as that fear is hanging over my head, day and night. It's real. We could be hanged. At any moment. For one single slip-up. Do you understand?"  
  
Caleb did understand. And he was afraid, too. But he-  
  
"Someone's coming," he whispered, and stepped aside to assume a perfect expression for any normal occasion. Ben straightened up and grabbed a letter off his desk and opened it as if he had been reading it aloud. There was a rap at the tent door a few seconds later.

"Come in."  
  
It was Anna. Caleb and Ben breathed a collective sigh of relief.  
  
"Ben," she began, in that commanding tone she tended to take when she was about to say something that she expected would not be a welcome thing to hear.  
  
"Yes, Anna?" Ben queried calmly.  
  
She looked back and forth between to the two of them. "I was hoping to hear about your trip to Philadelphia. But…I can see this is not a good time."  
  
"It's really not, Annie," said Caleb.  
  
"I see. And do you think you'll ever find time to inform me how I'm to be protected now that my name is on the lips of the enemy? And when you'll find someone to escort me to Philadelphia? Or shall I just fend for myself?"  
  
Ben jolted to a start at that. He had forgotten to keep her updated on her own security, and in fact had also totally forgotten she was even still in camp and that it was his duty to see her back to safely to Selah, now that Ann Bates was out of camp. These were just more things he had neglected due to his preoccupation with other pursuits.  
  
Caleb answered for him. "We were just discussing one of those two things. I am volunteering to take you down to Philadelphia. Ben? What say you?"  
  
“Yes, ahem, I’ll have to ask Washington. And I will. I'm due to see him in just a few minutes. There's no reason to say no."  
  
"Good," replied Anna. "And my safety, what about that? How did my name get out?"  
  
One of Washington's Life Guards now appeared at the tent and informed the group that the General was ready to see Ben, who nodded in acknowledgement as he put the letter down on the desk and tightened his sword belt to the next notch. He really needed to stop losing so much weight lately.  
  
"I don't have time to go into that right now, Anna. Tomorrow, alright? Meet in my tent after breakfast, both of you. Goodnight." He nodded at them in dismissal, and they turned to go out. Caleb turned around to lock eyes with Ben, who nodded just very slightly, apparently quite relieved that Caleb had quickly thought to volunteer for the trip to Philadelphia. That would postpone any further discussion they needed to have about their relationship, not to mention give Ben some breathing room in order to collect himself and get back in Washington's good graces again.  
  
Ben sighed inwardly, collected his racing thoughts, and followed the guard to Washington's headquarters.  
  
When they arrived, it was eerily quiet and dark. Apparently dinner had ended much earlier than expected, for he didn't have to wait at all for Washington to see him. He walked into the office and found his General replacing a candle that had burned down to a nub.  
  
"You wished to see me, sir?" he asked in the most normal tone he could manage.  
  
"I do," Washington answered, keeping his back to him as he struggled with the sconce. It was all Ben could do not to jump up and offer to take over the candle duties for him.  
  
Ben decided to not wait for a lecture. "I wish to apologize for-"  
  
"I will start the conversation when I’m ready, if you please," Washington interrupted, firmly but not unkindly.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Ben stood and waited, heart pounding, until Washington had lit the flame. Once that was successful, he turned around and sat down without any further dramatics. Then he handed Ben a letter.  
  
"This is General Scott's report of the affair that was mentioned at dinner. Don't read it right now. Just tell me why you were not listening to General Waye’s account of it, and why you saw fit to embarrass yourself at my table."  
  
Ben flinched at his tone before he could manage to stop himself. Damn it. He hated when he did that.  
  
"I was unwell, sir, with respect," Ben replied shakily. "Just as I had mentioned."  
  
"You seemed fine up until that point. What was wrong?"  
  
"Perhaps a stomach flu of some kind, sir. I haven't been eating as much as I should, as you can see, sir," he said, indicating the new notch on his sword belt. That part was at least true, if nothing else was. "And I was quite dizzy for some time during the main course. I would be grateful if you would please accept my deepest apologies for being inattentive to General Wayne."

Washington seemed almost convinced, but Ben didn't wish to press his luck any further. He added smoothly, "I have felt much improvement lately. No doubt I'll be well again soon enough."  
  
"And you didn’t think to tell me about this?," Washington asked icily. "The health of my senior officers is of utmost importance to me, and to the success of our cause. See the doctor first thing in the morning. That's an order. And do not keep such things from me again."  
  
"Yes, sir. My apologies."  
  
"I want your opinion on that letter tomorrow morning as well, after you have completed that visit. You may dismiss," he said, standing up.   
  
"Sir, may I ask you a question that is unrelated to this issue?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"May I send Lieutenant Brewster down to Philadelphia with Mrs. Strong? We had promised we would escort her back once her work with Mrs. Bates was completed."  
  
"Don't you need him here?"  
  
Yes. "No, sir. Not for the time being. I can spare him for those ten days."  
  
"Any longer? A few weeks?"  
  
Ben hesitated. "Yes, sir, of course. But I'm not sure what he would be doing-"  
  
Washington smiled a little. "Rochambeau is due back to Philadelphia in about two weeks, perhaps three, and I need someone trustworthy there to race back to me with his reply to one of my letters. Brewster will suit perfectly. Send him down with a small escort for Mrs. Strong, but should come back alone, as fast as he can manage. This is excellent timing, thank you, major. Please inform him he is to stay there until they make contact, no matter how long it takes. This is of the utmost importance."  
  
Ben swallowed hard for what seemed like the hundredth time this month. His heart began to ache. He didn't want to be away from Caleb for that long, no matter how much he needed to be.  
  
"Yes, sir. I'll inform him he can leave when Mrs. Strong is ready."  
  
"I expect them to depart tomorrow at noon. There is no need to wait longer than that. Thank you."  
  
Ben turned around and left the house, all but bursting into tears as he did so. First he pushed Caleb away on his own accord, now he was pushing him further away due to something that was out of control. And that was the exact opposite of what he really wanted. He wanted him in his bed. Now. Forever. And yet...that’s not what he wanted at all. He just wanted to go back to where he was before the war. Before he knew what love was like.   
  
He hated Caleb for being Caleb.  
  
He hated Washington for being Washington.  
  
He hated everything.

Most of all, he hated himself for being a coward.

 


	7. It Gets Better Before It Gets Worse

_“_ So you're to stay there and wait for Rochambeau to arrive, then relay his message back here as fast as you can manage."  
  
"When's he gonna arrive?" asked Caleb as he took another bite of bread.  
  
"Washington says anywhere from next week to three weeks. Hopefully not much longer." He reached into his coat. "He wrote a letter for Selah to ask him if you may be allowed to stay with him and Anna."  
  
Caleb grinned. "I don't need a letter from Washington for that! Eh, Annie? We're practically family."  
  
Anna was also amused by the seriousness of Ben's statement. "Really, Ben? Four extra bedrooms, and you think we'd trust Caleb to the local boarding houses? The world would have twenty little Calebs running around ten months from now."  
  
"Ah, who's to say that still won't be the case, though? Unless you lock me in my room."  
  
They both laughed and Ben felt himself starting to lighten up a little, against his will. He smiled. "I suppose you're right, but Washington likes to do things properly. So please give Selah this letter anyway."  
  
"I will. He could use the laugh." Caleb took it and put it in one of his many pockets.  
  
Anna sighed. "Well, I'm ready to go. Thank you, Ben. I'll see you when you're next in town, yes?"  
  
All three of them stood up, and Ben gave Anna a long, tender hug. He had been extremely fond of her since youth, but he never had to worry about her safety until now. And he felt terribly guilty for being the cause of putting her in danger a dozen times over.  
  
"Be safe, you two," Ben ordered authoritatively. "Anna, make sure he keeps in line. I don't want to receive a report about a Continental officer being banished from Philadelphia for rowdy behavior."  
  
"I will do my very best. Pray for me. Caleb, shall we?"  
  
Caleb looked at Ben, then back to Anna. "Give us just a minute, yeah? I'll be right there."  
  
"Goodbye, Ben," said Anna as she nodded and left the tent. Ben was extremely relieved that she gave no indication whatsoever of being aware of what was going on between her two friends.  
  
In the sudden silence, Ben could feel his pulse rushing in his ears. Caleb stood just a few feet away, looking at him quizzically. Neither of them seemed to know what to say, and there was an awkward silence for a long moment.  
  
Caleb spoke up first. "So, uh…what you said last night. Did you mean it?"  
  
"Which part of it?"  
  
"Ah….so there was at least some of it you didn't mean. Makes me wonder which part was true - the one where you said you loved me, or the one where you said you didn't."  
  
"Stop it, Caleb. I do love you, and you know it. But can we just talk about this when you get back? I need time to think, and I don't want to fight right now."  
  
Caleb grinned. "I wasn't looking for a fight, Benny Boy."  
  
"Well, you have a funny way of-"  
  
"I just want to know where we stand, is all. Surely you can tell me that much. Well?"  
  
Ben cleared his throat and fiddled with his sword, buying himself time to allow the thousand emotions to wash over him at once. From Caleb's point of view, he was a serious and steady as a boulder. However, he offered no response at all and just stared back defiantly after a few moments.  
  
"Ben?"  
  
"I don't know," Ben finally, with a casual shrug that disguised how heavily the words were affecting him. "I can't give you an answer right now."  
  
Caleb nodded. "I think you just did. Goodbye, Ben. See you around."  
  
"Wait, Caleb…"  
  
"What?"  
  
Ben strode to his desk and picked up Caleb's big hat. "You almost forgot this. Here."  
  
He handed it over, and their fingers brushed each other unintentionally. Ben felt a spark of electricity race through his hand and straight into his heart, rendering him pleasantly breathless. They stopped and looked at each other again in confusion; apparently Caleb had the same wonderful reaction.  
  
After a moment Ben realized he was still holding on to the hat, so he released it and stepped back.  
  
"Caleb, I…"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Ben took a deep breath. "Yes, I want to be with you. We will figure this out when you get back. I promise."  
  
"Aye, glad to hear it. See you in a few weeks."  
  
\--------------------------------------------  
  
6 months later  
  
"…and in five days' time, we shall decamp and leave for Yorktown to rendezvous with Lafayette and Wayne and the others. All of their troops are already on the way, which means we'll be among the last to join. Major Tallmadge, you're the exception. Your troops will leave tomorrow evening, stop in Philadelphia briefly to join Rochambeau, and march down with him to begin preparations for the siege in advance of my arrival."  
  
Ben's heart leaped into his throat. _Rochambeau…_  
  
"Major?" Washington prompted after Ben had not offered any acknowledgement.  
  
Ben jerked his mind back to the issue at hand. "Yes, sir. I was thinking…with the storm we just had, it's highly likely some of the roads are unpassable, due to fallen trees and such. Perhaps I should leave right now, in daylight, with a large troop of pioneers to clear the way for all of us?"  
  
"Of course. Good thinking. Colonel Hamilton, will you kindly see to it? Have them ready to go in one hour. I would like to speak with the major for a moment. Gentlemen, if you would kindly…"  
  
The room emptied out, leaving Ben to face Washington alone. But that was no longer a source of anxiety for Ben; in fact, both of them were still infinitely grateful to have mended fences so many months ago, and regained the trust they had once lost. Ben knew this could mostly be credited to Caleb's long absence and the subsequent lack of distractions.  
  
It had been six months since the day they parted, when Anna started the journey to return to Philadelphia. Caleb and Ben had traded regular letters since, almost every word formal, in code, and dedicated only to intelligence activities.

But one early letter contained a deeply personal question:  _Why was I really transferred to Rochambeau?_ asked Caleb. Ben's response, in code: _I assure you it was not my doing. Washington chose you personally, against my wishes. He trusts you to be his eyes in Philadelphia. I only hope it will not be for too long._  
  
The first part of his response was a lie.  
  
_Lieutenant Brewster is already in Philadelphia, sir. He's ideal for this duty, and can start right away._  
  
_You need him here, major._  
  
_We need him there more, sir. There is no one else we can trust more than him. I have other officers I can rely upon in the meantime to take over his duties._  
  
_Very well, if you're certain. Relay the new assignment detail to him as soon as possible, before he leaves the city._  
  
_It would be better if the orders came directly from you, sir, and if you could kindly not mention it was my idea that would be very much appreciated._  
  
Washington had looked askance at him, but he didn't ask questions or argue. He simply sat down and wrote the order in his own hand, and Ben sent it off via courier the same day. It had been that easy to temporarily rid himself of his number one source of anxiety.   
  
Except that he thought the transfer would last two months, perhaps. Not six. If he had known that, he wouldn't have done it.  
  
"Major, you seem to be quite preoccupied. Is all well?"  
  
Ben looked up at Washington and nodded. "Yes, sir. Just thinking about Yorktown. A victory there could mean the end of the war if all of our intelligence is accurate."  
  
Washington smiled grimly. "I wouldn't make any bets on that outcome. It's very likely we will fight for years to come. After all, there is more of the British Army than Cornwallis. We still have all of the north to think about. And South Carolina, and…"  
  
"You're right, of course, sir. I suppose I'm just feeling cautiously optimistic for once."  
  
Washington sat down. "I've been working on some transfer orders prior to my departure. They include having Caleb Brewster returned to your regiment. I don't think we need him anymore with Rochambeau, now that we've decided to move on Yorktown. In addition, I wish to promote him to Captain. The services he has rendered us in the past year more than merits it, do you agree?"  
  
Ben was instantly delighted at this news, and Washington was delighted in turn to see his young charge finally happy about something. It had been a very long time since Ben had not been mired in a perpetual state of gloom and doom. Even longer than the six months Brewster had been gone.  
  
"Thank you, sir! Yes, he deserves it. Very much so."  
  
Washington smiled. "You can tell him yourself then, when you see him in a few days. Come back here before you leave so I can give you the letter."  
  
"Then I'd better hurry, sir, if we're leaving in an hour."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
Ben did not actually need an hour to get ready. He had of course known about the move to Yorktown for some time, and his tent and chests were already prepared. He took a few minutes to gather up his writing implements and a few stray pieces of clothing. Then he laid down on his bed and daydreamed about what he would say to Caleb when they finally saw each other again.  
  
For a short time, he was pleased at the thought that it would most likely be a happy reunion.  
  
Until he remembered that it might not. Perhaps Caleb had found someone else. Perhaps he no longer loved Ben. Perhaps he knew it was Ben's idea to have him transferred, and he hated him for it. Perhaps…  
  
A hundred possibilities swirled in Ben's mind, each more dire than the last, until the optimism was swiftly gone.  
  
By the time he mounted his horse with his dragoons and the pioneers close behind, he was dreading seeing Caleb again.  
\---------------------------------------------


	8. It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

Ben climbed the long staircase to Selah's townhouse and steeled himself for whatever was about to happen between himself and Caleb. The trip to Philadelphia had given him enough time to think of a variety of rational, reasonable responses to any number of reactions he might receive. He was prepared for anything.  
  
Except that he wasn't prepared for the door to open by itself before he had the chance to gain all the courage he needed to knock. Of course they would have seen him arrive, he remembered, even if he was almost an hour early. But it still threw him off.  
  
Anna stood in the doorway, beaming.  
  
"Ben!"  
  
She stepped out and threw her arms around him.  
  
"Anna! You look great. Philadelphia suits you, eh?"  
  
"Aye, and you finally gained back the weight you needed. But not too much. Just right!" She patted his stomach.  
  
Ben grinned. "Thanks. I think. I'm sorry for being so early. But I received a note that I need to be elsewhere at noon, and-"  
  
She pulled him inside. "That's alright. We're all here. Come in."  
  
Ben stepped in, his eyes adjusting to the drastic difference in light. Caleb and Selah were standing by a lit fireplace, drinks in hand. They moved to greet him.  
  
Selah embraced him first, and then Caleb, who was grinning ear to ear and nearly squeezed the breath out of him in a bear hug.

Caleb was happy to see him, Ben noted with an unmistakable burst of joy in his chest. It was all he had hoped for, to start with.  
  
Ben caught his breath, then turned his attention to Selah in order to tamp down his keen emotions. "I apologize for being early," he repeated. "I have to be at the state house at noon, and I didn't have time to get word to you."  
  
"That's alright. But Anna and I are due to a lunch in just a few minutes, a block away. I'm glad we didn't miss you. Will you have dinner with us tonight?"  
  
"Thank you, I'd like that very much. I'll need to get permission from Rochambeau, but I can't imagine he would say no."  
  
Anna was still beaming. "We'll see you then, I hope. You and Caleb must have a lot to catch up on. How long has it been?"  
  
"Six months," the two friends answered together. And four days, added Ben - to himself, of course.  
  
They left in a flurry of another round of hugs, and then the house was quiet. Ben looked at Caleb, smiled, and then walked over to window to watch the Strongs leave for lunch, walking arm in arm and smiling wide. They were so happy together that it made Ben's heart glow with affection.  
  
Once they were finally out of sight, he turned back to Caleb, who was near the fireplace again and pouring a drink for him. Ben walked over, took it gratefully, and in his anxiety he downed half of it in one gulp. It was unexpectedly potent. The burn in his throat made him gag a little, and his eyes began to water profusely.  
  
"Don't cry, Ben," Caleb teased. "I know you're happy to see me, but that's a bit much."  
  
Ben looked at the glass in wonder as he was recovering from the shock. "What on earth is this?"  
  
"Some kind of French liqueur. I was just about to tell you to go slow, but you beat me to it."  
  
"It's awful!"  
  
"Nah, it's actually great. Try it again. Go slow."  
  
Ben carefully took a very small sip, which was slightly more palatable. "Actually…it's not that bad, in small doses. I assume Selah received it from the Marquis?"  
  
"I did, actually. Been kind of fun running around with the big boys and enjoying their expensive taste in gifts. You should have tried the bottle I received from Rochambeau. It's gone now, of course."  
  
Ben took another sip, and then another. "I like this. Can I have some more?"  
  
Caleb laughed as he opened the bottle again and refilled Ben's glass, which was barely big enough to hold in his hand. They sat down in front of the fire and drank together, discretely watching each other over the rims of their tiny glasses and judging how to proceed.  
  
"So," began Ben, as he enjoyed the flow of warmth through his body - both from the drink, and the fire. And the happiness of being near Caleb again. "You've been enjoying your time with the French, eh?"  
  
"Indeed I have. The Frenchies know how to live, Ben. We should all learn from their example and alter our lives accordingly. For example, just last week, I went with them to this tavern not even a hundred yards-"  
  
"I have a confession to make, Caleb," Ben blurted out suddenly. His joy was suddenly gone, replaced by dread and guilt. He set his glass down carefully and stared into the fire. The necessity of having this discussion was a decision he made on the journey to Philadelphia, and he wasn't going to shy away from it.  
  
"Uh-oh. Finally got yourself a girl, huh?"  
  
Ben gulped, suddenly breaking into a sweat. "No, Caleb! Please be serious for a change. There’s something I have to tell you first thing, in order to…so that you know, and you can act accordingly. And if you don't want to speak to me after I tell you, just know that I'll understand and I take complete responsibility for whatever happens. Or has happened. And I also want you to know that I'm extremely sorry for it. More than I can ever express."  
  
There was a long silence. Caleb waited as long as he could stand it, then prompted impatiently, "So…are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess at it?"

Ben took a deep breath. "Well, I…a long time ago you sent me a letter asking me the reason behind your transfer to Rochambeau. And I did not answer it truthfully."  
  
"Ah. So now you're going to tell me the truth?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Do you mind looking at me while you do it?”  
  
Ben closed his eyes, said a quick prayer, and tore his eyes away from the fire to settle them on Caleb.  
  
"Your transfer wasn’t Washington’s doing. When he told me he wanted someone stationed here with Rochambeau...Caleb, you were too much of a distraction to me, and I couldn't do my job! I needed you to go away. And I was scared. For both of us. Not that I told him that, of course.”  
  
"Ben-"  
  
"Had I known, however, that it would last six months, I would have never insisted it be you. He wanted you to stay with us, but I told him him...I told him we didn’t really need you. Which was also not true. I'm so sorry, Caleb. For not being truthful in my letter back to you, and for keeping us apart when all I wanted was for us to be together. And I still do. Being away from you for so long has...been extraordinarily difficult, and made me realize how much I need you. I am so deeply sorry.”  
  
Caleb took a long look into the fire, taking this in over the next minute or so. Ben could not tell if he had already figured that out or not, but it appeared he was truly surprised and dismayed by the confession.  
  
"You had about five months to come clean about it. Why tell me now?"  
  
Ben took another drink. He was feeling flush already. "Because I'm a coward, Caleb. And I'm sorry for that, too. I will accept whatever you have to say about me because of it."  
  
Caleb stood up and paced the room for a while. He stopped near the doorway and leaned against the frame.  
  
"Are you really ready to accept what I have to say, Ben? Because it ain't gonna be pretty."  
  
Ben nodded, turning his attention back to the fire. He was absolutely miserable, beyond everything he'd ever felt before. "Yes. Go ahead.”  
  
Caleb walked back over and gently plucked Ben's glass out of his hand.

"What I have to say is this: you need to leave the house now, and don't come by for dinner tonight. You can easily come up with another lie to tell Selah, I'm sure. Oh, and one more thing: don’t ever speak to me again."  
  
"But, I…"  
  
"Door's down the hall, to your right."  
  
Ben stood up so fast that it made him slightly dizzy. This was completely unexpected, despite all his careful preparations for possible scenarios in reaction to his news. Nor did he quite believe it.

"Are you serious?" he croaked.  
  
"Completely serious." Caleb's expression unmistakably backed up his words.

Ben felt like he had just jumped off an extremely tall cliff. His head was unusually light, and it took him a few long moments to compose himself.

“Alright. If that's what you want, then..." He remembered the letter in his pocket suddenly, and a business-like calm came over him like a comforting cloak. He reached in and pulled it out.  
  
"Before I go, though, this is a letter to you from General Washington. You've been promoted to captain. Congratulations."  
  
Caleb did not reach out for the proffered letter. "Thanks. Like I said, door's down the hall."  
  
"Also," Ben added as he laid the letter on the chair, desperately trying to stall for time, "You've been transferred back to my command as of today. I will see if I can…get that reversed, should you wish."

"What do you think?"  
  
Ben did not want to leave. There was so much he wanted to say. "Right. That will take Washington's approval and it won't be possible to get that for a while, so in the meantime if you could just be patient and try to….behave normally, I would appreciate it very much."  
  
"I will, major."  
  
Major. Ben felt like sobbing at that, but he held it together. "I'm so sorry, Caleb. I don't know how to make this right-” 

"Need me to remind you where the door is?" Caleb asked tersely. He was done talking.

Ben said nothing more as he let himself out into the warm autumn sunshine, making sure the slam the door behind him as hard as he could manage. Then he walked slowly to the state house, feeling overwhelmingly suffocated and imprisoned by his newfound freedom.


	9. Two Steps Back, One Step Forward

Experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu, coupled with grim determination, Ben climbed the steps again to Selah's house as the sun dipped under the horizon. This time, however, he wasn't there for a happy reunion. This was the dinner Caleb had told him not to join. He had chosen to disregard that request and come anyway. After all, he may never see Selah and Anna again. This was no longer about him and Caleb. 

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.  
  
The dining room table was set for four, which was quite puzzling. Either Caleb didn't know he was coming, or someone else was joining, or he knew Ben was coming and had agreed to join anyway - which he found the least likely scenario.  
  
He was wrong on all counts. A servant came and took away the fourth place setting shortly after they were seated. Ben looked quizzically at Selah.  
  
"Is Caleb not joining us?" he asked, keeping a casual tone.  
  
They looked at each other questioningly, then back to Ben. Anna responded, "No, he heard you were coming and…what's come between the two of you?"

Damn it. Ben picked up his glass of water and took a long drink, scrambling for the right words to put forth. There were none to find, so he asked bluntly, "Where is he?"  
  
At the same time, Anna said "I don’t know" while Selah replied "upstairs." They looked at each other, embarrassed. Ben flushed hotly.  
  
"I see. Which room is he in? I need to give him his orders for tomorrow."  
  
Anna put a hand on his arm. "He doesn't want to-"  
  
Ben shook off her hand and stood up. He was rapidly growing furiously impatient with the situation in general, and it was all too easy to take it out on his best friends.

"So if you already know what's going on, why are you asking me?"  
  
"We don't know what’s going on," they said together.  
  
Ben closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, pulling a piece of paper out of his coat. It was just a bill of sale from a clothier, but they didn't need to know that.  
  
"What room is he in, please? I am obliged to give him these orders from Washington as soon as possible."  
  
Anna sighed. "The last one at the end of the hall, on the left. I do wish you would wait until after dinner."  
  
"It will only take a moment," Ben said as he stood up. “Selah, may I speak to you in private, please?”

Once they were in the semi-privacy of the hall, Ben lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Did you tell Anna about...?” He didn’t need to add _me and Caleb._ Nor would he ever say such a thing out loud, in any case. 

Selah looked genuinely offended. ”No, of course not! What do you take me for?“

“Sorry, Selah. I had to ask. Thank you. What room is he in again?”

“Last one on the left. Good luck.”

Ben clapped Selah on the shoulder, then bounded up the stairs. He fully expected no answer to come from his knock on the door, and was surprised when it jerked open almost immediately. Caleb seemed to be almost waiting for him.

"Do you have a moment?" Ben asked, exceedingly polite despite his desire to be rude and demanding in order to vent his frustration further. "I have orders to relay to you, that's all. And then I'll go."  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
Ben fought down his irritation, mostly unsuccessfully. "Don't call me that!"  
  
"What are my orders, sir?" Caleb asked, completely unmoved by the directive.  
  
Ben sighed. "Our regiment is forming in front of the state house at noon on Monday, four days from now. I've assigned you to lead the Pioneers for the march to Yorktown. Their captain is ill and will stay behind in Philadelphia. Until we leave, you're free to do whatever you'd like. I'll be busy meeting with Rochambeau most of the time, but…"  
  
"…But what?"  
  
"I….Selah has invited me to stay here in the meantime, which I'll decline under the circumstances. I just wanted you to know."  
  
_Ask me where I'm staying_ , Ben pleaded silently.  
  
"Is that all, sir?"  
  
"Stop doing that, please. Can we talk tomorrow?"  
  
Caleb shook his head. "I think I made it clear that we ain't doing anymore talking. Outside of orders, that is. Are you going to order me to talk to you?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"Then goodnight, major."  
  
Caleb closed the door, but Ben's blood was still up. He grabbed the knob before it could be locked and strode into the bedroom, closing the door hard behind him.  
  
"What the hell, Ben-"  
  
"I did what I did to protect you! And me. Our lives were literally at stake if anyone found out what we were up to. Obviously I shouldn't have lied about it, but I want you to know…I still love you, and still want to be with you. Even more now than before. In fact, I'm going to take up Selah's offer to stay here for the next few nights, so I'll be right across the hall when you're ready to talk. I'm not giving up until you convince me with absolute certainty that this can never be fixed. Until then, I still have hope for us, because I love you and I _know_ you still love me. Goodnight, Caleb."  
  
He turned on his heel and tried his best to stalk out gracefully, but his coat got caught on the doorknob and held him prisoner momentarily. As he swung around to free himself, his sword knocked a large white pitcher off a shelf and sent it flying, along with a couple of silver candlesticks. The pitcher shattered into a dozen pieces on the hard floor.  
  
He stood there in shock for a few moments, mind blank and heart racing.  
  
"Oh…no…” was all he could manage as the embarrassment took over his anger.  
  
"You sure know how to make an exit," Caleb quipped dryly as he bent down to pick up the pieces. Ben quickly did the same, and together they managed to scoop up almost everything before a housemaid who had heard the commotion came flying in to help.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ben said sincerely, ears burning. "It was an accident-"  
  
"Not at all, sir, it had been rather precariously perched and I told Mrs. Strong we should move it, but…" She deftly took up all the pieces in her apron and added breathily, "I'll sweep up the rest as soon as I can be back with a broom."  
  
She disappeared, and Ben was left looking at Caleb, who said, "Careful. There's a candlestick almost under your foot. The other one must be under the bed."  
  
Ben turned to pick up the piece behind him as Caleb stuck his head under the bed to grab the other one. He then handed it to Ben, who placed both of them carefully on the corner shelf, a little further back than they were before.  
  
Taking a huge gamble, Ben blurted out politely, "Will you come down to dinner with us, please?"  
  
Caleb laughed. “Oh, you think breaking a vase will just magically make everything alright, huh?"  
  
"It was a pitcher…and no, I don't. But I do think it's rude to your hosts to refuse their hospitality."  
  
"It was a vase. And what do you mean r _efuse_ their hospitality? I've been staying here for months, Ben, thanks to you. I think they'll be thrilled to have a meal without me for a change.”

Ben felt the jab straight in his heart, but had to admit there was no way to argue with it.

He nodded in defeat. "You have a point. Well...goodnight, then."  
  
Ben was red-faced as he sat down at the dinner table. Anna and Selah were staring at him in dismay.  
  
"I’m so sorry," Ben began, feeling like a complete fool. "My sword got caught on that rather large vase and knocked it off the shelf. It's destroyed. Please let me know how much I should reimburse you for it, and I'll be happy to help find a replacement."  
  
Selah cleared his throat noisily. "The pitcher, you mean. It fell, eh? Sounded like you were having a bit of a brawl up there, though."  
  
"Not at all," said Ben casually as he unfolded his napkin in an exaggeratedly nonchalant fashion.   
  
Anna nodded. "It’s not your fault. That’s the one Emilia told me was going to fall someday. I should have listened to her. Are you ready for dinner then?"  
  
"I'm fairly starving, Mrs. Strong," Ben said, as he smiled thinly and picked up his wine glass.


	10. Are You In, Or Out?

5:00am - Sunday morning  
  
Four years of being awakened at 4:30am at Yale was still keeping Ben in the habit of rising almost every morning about an hour before sunrise. Normally he was up and about, but this morning he stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling that he couldn't see, ignoring longings that he couldn't fulfill, tormenting himself with regrets he couldn't undo. Caleb lived and slept not even fifty feet away, yet they had not seen each other even once since their bitter argument almost three days ago. The regiment was leaving for Yorktown the next day, and Ben had all but given up hope for any reconciliation with his friend. It was one of Ben's biggest weaknesses that he was completely unable to forgive himself, or to allow others to forgive him.  
  
Uncharacteristically, he stayed in bed even as the sun had started to rise. Rochambeau had given the entire regiment a day of rest before the long march, and as a result, Ben suddenly found himself with far too much empty time on his hands. Feeling rather slovenly, he sank deeper into the bed and resolved to put Caleb out of his mind for the day. It would be difficult, considering he had nothing on his agenda except to go to church, and that wasn't for several hours. It had been years since he had so much time to himself, and he found himself wanting none of it.  
  
But alas, there was only so much laziness he could take. He finally started to rise well after the sun was up, and was startled to see a piece of paper lying on the floor. He had not heard it being slid under his door…it could have been there for many hours, or just a few minutes. In his haste to read it, he accidentally tore it in half while opening it. But there wasn't much to piece back together:  
  
_Ready to talk. Breakfast? - CB_  
  
Ben threw his clothes on in a rush and, against his inclinations to race out, took a few extra minutes to ensure that he looked absolutely proper for the occasion. Then with shaky hands, he knocked on Caleb's door.  
  
"Come in."  
  
"Good morning," Ben greeted him in a light tone. "Hungry yet? Chestnut Tavern is calling our names."  
  
"Thought you weren't going to take me up on the offer," grumbled Caleb from his desk, where he was busily writing a letter.  
  
Ben smiled inwardly, not worried that Caleb was hungry and grouchy. He would quickly become more cheerful upon the appearance of food. "Believe it or not, I actually stayed in bed past sunrise. I don't think I've done that since I was a child. Otherwise I would have seen your note much earlier."  
  
"Ah. Well, I wasn't thinking of going to a tavern. Bertie's already making breakfast downstairs. Anna and Selah are out until noon or so."  
  
Ben was immensely relieved. This conversation was definitely not one he wanted to have in public.  
  
"Alright, well…shall I meet you down there, then? Give you some time to finish your letter?"  
  
"Nah, I'm done." He signed it with a flourish, then set the quill into its holder.  
  
He folded it up in a way that suddenly made Ben incredibly nervous about the contents. He couldn’t help but ask quietly, "That's…not your resignation, is it?"  
  
Caleb paused and looked at him askance. "What? No. It's a thank you letter to Anna and Selah for their…hospitality, as you put it." He finished folding it up, and wrote both of the Strongs names on the front.  
  
Ben was secretly impressed. He never imagined Caleb as the type to write thank you letters, and quickly made a mental note to himself to do the same in the future.  
  
"Sorry, I've been a little on edge about all of this. I didn't mean to assume."  
  
"I'm not going to resign, Ben, unless you keep me waiting any longer for breakfast. Let's go."

  
\------  
  
They made pleasant conversation about Philadelphia and Yorktown for a little while, and then as the last part of the breakfast arrived - a very large omelet of some sort - Caleb discreetly gestured at the maid to close the doors to the dining room. Once that was done, and they were completely alone, Ben felt a hot wave of dread fill his chest. As much as he had been enjoying their conversation, there was an enormous amount of talking to do that would not be so pleasant. And Caleb wasn't exactly cheerful and upbeat at the moment.  
  
Ben took another few bites and waited for Caleb to dive into the topic at hand, since he was the one who had requested the conversation. It didn't take long.  
  
"I've been thinking, Ben.”  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Caleb took a long drink of water. "This is going to really surprise you, but here goes. I've been thinking, a lot, and going over all the different scenarios in my head…and, well….I eventually came to the conclusion that you did the right thing. By sending me here. By not telling me it was your idea. Everything. I honestly don't see what else you could have done. So I forgive you.”  
  
Ben was taken aback entirely, to the point where he tried to respond three times and failed.  
  
Caleb grinned. "Told ya I'd surprise you with that. Thought you'd be happier to hear it, though."  
  
Ben shook his head. "But it's not exactly true. For starters, I could have…not lied in that letter."  
  
"Yeah, but what would have been gained by telling me the truth? I thought I was down here on Washington's errand, and did my job accordingly. You knew I definitely would have resigned if you chose me only because you wanted me away from camp. Hard not to take that personally."  
  
"Yes. But that-"  
  
"And I couldn't have accepted that. You say you lied to me because you are a coward. But I don't buy it. You lied to me to protect the mission, and to protect us, and to protect your job, and the cause. I get it now. That's not saying I didn't have any right to be angry about it. And that's why I'm never going to apologize for reacting the way I did, so don't be expecting to get a sorry out of me."  
  
Ben set his fork on the table, food long forgotten.  
  
"Caleb, I…you have no reason to apologize, nor would I accept it if you did. I'm so very sorry for all of it. I really am. You have no idea how much this has been tormenting me for months…and it will continue to do so until I am in my grave."  
  
There was a breathy silence as they both took in each other's words, and let the waves of emotion fluctuate and die down. It was a long time before Caleb spoke again.  
  
"You are also right in saying that it's too dangerous to keep doing what we’re doing. I'm don't want to have to keep putting fires out every time you get spooked. And then you pushing me away for days and weeks at a time, all of that. I can't do it. I won't do it."  
  
"Caleb-"  
  
"So we either accept the risk and hang together, or we agree the risk is too high and we stay away from each other. There is no in-between for me anymore. We're in, or we're out. And we're going to decide that right here, in this room, _right now_."  
  
Ben did not hesitate and even managed to surprise himself when he answered decisively, "I’m willing to accept the risk if you stop pushing me to do things that violate Washington's orders, and are more patient with the fact that I want us to be more careful than you’d like. I don’t enjoy getting spooked, either, and most of the time it was your fault. So with your acceptance of those conditions, I’m in."  
  
"Agreed. I have conditions as well."  
  
"Fine. What are they?"  
  
"Number one is that you never lie to me again. Number two is that you stop beating yourself up for loving me."  
  
Ben was confused. "What?"  
  
"I'm serious, Ben. I know you're ashamed of us. And yourself. And I don't like it."  
  
"Caleb, I'm…it's natural, I think, considering my religious upbringing. I can't promise I won't be ashamed of something that is so obviously a sin!"  
  
"Then promise you'll try."  
  
Ben nodded. "I'll try, but I think…I think that's something that won't go away. Sorry, Caleb, I'm just being completely honest with you. It doesn't change the fact that I love you so much that I can't go five minutes without thinking about you, does it?"  
  
"I suppose not," replied Caleb, who was suddenly lost in thought.  
  
Ben picked his fork back up, suddenly feeling very shy. It was an odd feeling to discuss such things in a formal setting, at a nice meal. In fact, it was odd to discuss them at all. His cheeks started to redden.  
  
"So with that, I agree to your conditions. What is your answer?"  
  
"I'm in, of course. I suppose this means you don't have to put in my transfer request now."  
  
Ben's heart dropped. "Oh god, I already did. I'll have to undo it again. Washington is going to have a stroke when I try to explain this one away."  
  
Caleb laughed, but Ben was not amused. However, his heart was much lighter now, and he was able to get past it without tormenting himself for too long.  
  
"I've lost my appetite," Ben admitted after a few moments. They hadn't even touched the omelet. "This has been quite the week."  
  
"Aye, it has. What do you have planned for the day?"  
  
"Nothing, actually. Not a single thing. Rochambeau gave the regiment a respite day, and ordered me to get some sleep. He actually said that if he saw me doing anything but resting or eating, he would have me cashiered."  
  
Caleb laughed again. "You must have been a sight for the last few days."  
  
Ben grimaced at the recollection of the French general upbraiding him for not taking care of his health. "I was not myself, to put it lightly.”  
  
"Well, then I'd like to make a proposal. Selah and Anna won't be back until noon, so how's about we both go upstairs and get some, errr, _rest_. Together.”

Ben smirked endearingly as his mind - and breeches - suddenly filled up with all the thoughts and desires and needs he had been pushing aside for so many months.

"Yes. Yes, let's do that. We had better make sure to watch the time. Oh god...what about the maids?"  
  
"That's what door locks are for, Benny Boy. If only our tents locked as well, eh?"  
  
Ben stood up decisively. He felt unusually giddy and pleasantly warm from head to toe. "Alright, then. I said I was in, and I meant it. So, Caleb Brewster...are you coming to bed with me, or what?"  
  
Caleb grinned, set down his napkin, and got to his feet. "Now that's what I like to hear, my friend! That's what I like to hear."

—The End—


End file.
